


Lady Aliandra Nightshade

by SMenace25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Harry Potter, Dimension Travel, Dursley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Female Harry Potter, Gen, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master of Death Harry Potter, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Weasley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), not the twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMenace25/pseuds/SMenace25
Summary: Who is Lady Aliandra Nightshade?What is her connection to Harry Potter?Why does she hate Albus Dumbledore?Just give it a read, you might be surprised.
Comments: 84
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy, this is probably gonna be a long fic, but I won't abandon it. All mistakes are mine, I have no beta, I'm a busy Uni student, so I don't write a lot, but I hope you enjoy it.  
> I don't own anything, just playing in the sandbox, and definitely making no money off this.

Lord Lucius Malfoy was watching the Wizengamot members before the meeting started. Severus Snape was sitting beside him, wrapped in his dark cloak, looking like Death made human. They were both curious about what this meeting was going to be like. Severus, like a great number of the extra people who were sitting in their new seats, were only here because they had received a very strange letter.

This letter had encouraged all the new people to go to Gringotts and get an inheritance test. There were a lot of extra people in the seats who hadn’t been here in the last session. The letter had been anonymous, and signed simply, with a picture of a nightshade flower. It also bore the symbol of the Unspeakables.

The Unspeakables of the ICW.

Only an idiot ignored a letter from an Unspeakable.

Only an idiot the size of a certain twinkly eyed, deranged, fashion disaster would ignore a letter from an Unspeakable of the ICW. The ICW only accepted the absolute best of the best from around the world.

Anyone who had gotten such a letter had gone to Gringotts and gotten that inheritance test. The Goblins of Gringotts had been waiting for them. It was definitely an eye-opening experience for all of them. Some had no idea they had seats on the Wizengamot, some, like Severus, had believed themselves to be disowned, and others had been told by a demented Headmaster that other family had gotten their seats.

Needless to say, a great number of the people sitting in their seats for the first time were terribly upset with a certain crazy old goat.

Lord Malfoy was watching all the people in the room with sharp ice blue eyes, and Severus Snape sitting beside him was watching with equally intense black eyes above a hooked nose. As such they were two of the first people to notice the woman who walked into the room.

She was a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. She had long black hair that was twisted into a plait that ran straight down her spine. She was pale, not Vampire pale, more ‘I don’t get out enough’ pale. She was dressed in high quality clothes. An emerald green acromantula silk shirt; black dragonhide pants tucked into green dragonhide knee high boots; and black robes, cut into a duellist style, made of an unknown hide. Her wand was not visible, nor were any other weapons she may have on her body, and Lucius and Severus were both certain she had to have some.

She moved like a fighter, fluid grace, no missed steps or wasted movement. She moved like a panther, or tigress through a jungle. Her sharp, hard emerald green eyes flicked over the people seated; as they flicked over Lucius and Severus, they both saw something genuinely like triumph in her eyes. Both of the two powerful men felt a shiver run down their spines; they knew today was going to be interesting.

The young woman moved over to Madam Amelia Bones, who had straightened up when the intriguing young woman entered. The two strong women spoke quietly for a few minutes, before the younger of the two moved over to stand near the Ministers’ desk, clearly to wait. Lucius and Severus exchanged looks; they were both willing to admit to their curiosity. They saw Lord Gareth Greengrass, the leader of the Neutral Party, was also watching the young woman, as she seemed to almost fade into the shadows. Madam Bones was also watching her out of the corner of her eye. In fact, it appeared that anyone with at least half a brain, and those who still held to their old war instincts, was watching the woman. The war was only over not even five years yet; there were a lot of people who still held their old instincts, which were screaming that this woman was Dangerous.

With a capital ‘D’.

Lady Augusta Longbottom was watching the young woman closely; there was something about the girl that reminded the Dowager Lady of her Frank; very few people had known that he had been an Unspeakable. Most simply thought he was just an Auror. The elder Lady was wondering if that captivating young woman was the reason so many new people were sitting in seats that had been, until quite recently, assigned to an old Headmaster. The Dowager knew today was going to be a surprise for that old goat; she was rather looking forward to it. She still blamed _that man_ for the state that her son and daughter-in-law were in. They trusted too much in _that man_ , and look where that had, unfortunately, landed them. She was never going to make _that_ mistake again.

Madam Amelia Bones was staring at the piece of parchment that the young woman had handed her. It was a simple name; she had asked Amelia if she could introduce her when she took her seats. However, Madam Bones had seen the slight gleeful maliciousness in her gaze as she asked. Madam Bones had a feeling this young woman was most likely the ICW Unspeakable who was responsible for the rather interesting information and files that had been making their way onto her desk in recent times. The head of the DMLE had no doubt this woman was going to throw a cat among the pigeons; she also had no doubt a certain fashion blunder was not going to enjoy having this young woman in what he had long considered _his_ Wizengamot. She was also quite happy to be getting a front row seat to watch this.

Hufflepuffs’ had _long_ memories, and Amelia still blamed the twinkly eyed crazy old coot for the deaths of her brother and sister-in-law.

All eyes had gone to the doors as they opened again; Dumbledore was walking in, late as usual, like he owned the Chamber. There was a slight stutter in his steps, that only those watching him closely noticed, (which meant everyone noticed) as he took in the number of people sitting in the chamber. A slight frown marred his aged face as he saw Severus sitting next to Lucius. Shaking it off, he greeted his cronies, and ignored anyone he didn’t care for; flouting the fact that he was late, and still holding up the meeting. Cornelius Fudge coughed, and when Dumbledore appeared to ignore him, he spoke, his voice pointed,

“Perhaps we could get a move on Albus. We are already running late, as not everyone could be bothered to be present on time.”

There was a flash of irritation over the Headmasters’ face briefly, before he covered it up with a genial smile, and responded, his voice shaded just the slightest bit reproachful,

“Of course, Cornelius. My old bones aren’t as spry as you youngsters anymore, I’m afraid, so I can’t move as quickly.”

“Of course, you can’t Albus.” Doge, one of the demented twinkly eyed old coots’ main bootlickers, spoke at once.

“Very well, let’s get started.”

Dumbledore said, as he gave another genial smile, and moved to the dais where the Chief Warlocks’ seat was. After he sat down, he also shifted for a few moments, making a bit of a show of rubbing his back, and shifting his position, as if his old bones were aching on the hard seat. Once he was finally settled, (during which time many people were forcing themselves to refrain from rolling their eyes) Dumbledore looked up, and opened his mouth to speak, when the young woman moved, catching his, and everyone else’s attention.

The young woman, who was suddenly looking even more dangerous, stalked over towards Dumbledore. She walked up to his dais; then moved passed, without making eye contact with the Headmaster, but without looking weak. She was heading for the dais above, where the seats that the Founders of Hogwarts were. She paused for a moment at the Founders seats, and then kept moving, heading for the highest dais.

The dais where the seats of Merlin Ambrosius Emrys and Morgana Le Fey sat.

She paused for another moment, and some could see the slight smirk on her full lips; it was clear she was building suspense.

Finally, when the tension was thick enough to cut, she swirled elegantly and sat down.

In the seat of Merlin.

There was utter stillness and silence for a moment. Then…

White light flooded the Wizengamot Chamber; twelve bells tolled, and Magic overflowed, as the young woman was accepted in the seat of Merlin.

There was a serene smile on the woman’s face as the Magic rushed through her. It made her stern face look younger, almost childlike. Her full pink lips curved upwards; her eyes were closed briefly; her high cheekbones were blushed with the force of the Magic. Her pale skin had some colour to it, and the tension that had been present in her shoulders had eased.

Dumbledore knew he was staring, open mouthed, at the woman. He knew he needed to gain his composure, but he had never expected the seat of Merlin to ever be sat in; certainly not by someone that wasn’t him, anyway.

Madam Bones cleared her throat. When that didn’t get the Headmasters’ attention, she exchanged a look with the Minister. Just as Cornelius opened his mouth to say something, Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice shaken,

“How…how are you the heir of Merlin???”

“Albus, procedure needs to be followed.” Amelia Bones said.

When he looked blankly at her, Amelia refrained from rolling her eyes, and repeated,

“Procedure needs to be followed, you need to open the session and call it to order before we can do the introductions. Magic has accepted her claim, therefore, open the session, and we can do the introductions.”

“Of course, thank you Amelia.” Dumbledore replied, distractedly.

He called the session to Order, then called for the minutes of the last session to be read. He was distracted the entire time, and Amelia and Cornelius had to prompt him to continue a few times. Then, they finally reached the Introductions. Madam Bones and the young woman made no attempt to introduce her, allowing everyone else to go first. Finally, after everyone else was introduced, and Dumbledore was almost vibrating out of his chair, Madam Bones stood up, and spoke,

“My esteemed colleagues, I have the honour of introducing Lady Aliandra Nightshade.”

The now named Lady Aliandra Nightshade stood up and bowed. Then she simply sat back down, without speaking, her eyes on Dumbledore. There was a soft intake of breath from everyone who had received a letter.

Dumbledore blinked at that, entirely unhelpful (in his opinion) introduction. The Minister and Head of the DMLE had to prompt him a few times to continue. The meeting finally got to any new business. After a few minor issues, the Lady Nightshade stood up, and waited to be acknowledged. When Chief Warlock Dumbledore acknowledged her, she spoke, her voice strong, and almost musical in its’ lilting quality.

“I hope you can tell me where my heir, Harry James Potter is Headmaster.”

There was silence for a few moments as everyone tried to guess what was going on.

“Miss, who are you, and why on earth would you think Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, our saviour, was any business of yours?” Dumbledore spoke, his voice strong, and slightly angry.

Lady Nightshade smiled, and replied with a malicious glint in her eyes,

“My apologies, I should have introduced myself fully. I am Lady Aliandra Oleander Evans-Potter-Black-Slytherin-Gryffindor-Cambridge-North Umbria-Peverell-Ambrosius-Le Fey. The shortened form is Lady Ali Peverell. My work name is Aliandra Nightshade. Now, tell me, Headmaster, where is my nephew and heir?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the past is explored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for such an excellent reaction to this story.  
> Hope you like this chapter just as much.
> 
> Also, I use the terms 'Master of Death' and 'Lord of Magic' as unisex terms. They just sound better to me, sorry if anyone doesn't like that.

Ali withheld a groan as she tried to take inventory as to how she felt. She could tell she was still injured, and she knew _exactly_ who to thank for that fact. Her magic was bubbling away beneath the surface of her skin, content, and healing her. She knew it would be an unbelievably bad idea to try to open her eyes right now, so she didn’t.

The young woman could tell she was lying in a bed, so clearly, she hadn’t been captured by _them_. She could smell herbs and potion ingredients, so someone had been trying to heal her. She could hear the soft murmur of voices; clearly, trying not to disturb a sleeping patient. Finally deciding the concussion she had was not going to just go away, she forced her eyes open, and blinked in the soft light a few times.

Her eyes focussed on the two men who were in the room and she relaxed immediately. She smiled at the older, non-descript man who noticed her wake. He was tall, easily 6 and a ½ feet tall; despite his height, he moved fluidly, gracefully; he had close cropped greying black hair, sharp amber eyes that appeared surprised by her smile for a moment. He was of indeterminate age. He was dressed simply, black dragonhide pants, boots, a red cotton shirt, and a duellists robe in red over the top. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ali spoke first, her voice rough with sleep and pain.

“Wallis, you have no idea how good it is to see you. I was hoping that you would get to me before _they_ did.”

The newly named Wallis blinked, and peered at her,

“You know me then?” His voice was deep, calm and commanding.

Ali felt a slight frisson of fear before she answered,

“Of course, I do Wallis. I’ve worked with you everyday of the last nine years.”

Wallis looked at her, with a gentle look, but no pity, which is something Ali had always greatly liked about him. The other man in the room stepped forward, also with a gentle look in his bright blue eyes. Ali knew, and trusted, him almost as well as she did Wallis. However, there was no recognition in either of their eyes.

The other man was not as tall as Wallis, just slightly taller than her own 6 foot 3; his curly strawberry blonde hair was tied back with a simple piece of black leather in the style of most pure bloods; he was fashionably dressed in acromantula silk clothes; black pants, a royal blue shirt, a fine blue over robe, and black dragonhide boots. He looked to be in his early forties, and he moved with the grace of a pure blood.

Ali began to fear the ritual she had walked in on _them_ doing had clearly done something more than she expected.

“What year is it?” Wallis asked, having seen the resignation creeping into the young woman’s eyes as she tried to sit up. The other man helped her, gently, to settle upright.

“I’m guessing it’s not currently 2009, is it?” Ali responded, her voice a little breathless with pain.

“No, it’s not.” The other man replied, holding out a potion to her. Ali took it, and with a single sniff recognised it as a level 7 pain reliever. She took it and gave a soft sigh.

“Thank you, Pierre.” Ali said, closing her eyes briefly, therefore missing the quick glance Pierre and Wallis exchanged.

“It is actually 1986, miss.” Wallis spoke softly.

Ali sighed, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like cursing. Then she opened her emerald eyes and pierced them both with her eagle-eyed focus. She studied the two men seriously for a moment, and they both felt the weight of her gaze like a physical caress.

“I am Aliandra Oleander Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, the Woman-Who-Conquered, the Master of Death, Lady Magics’ Chosen Lord of Balance, and the Partner of the Head of the ICW Unspeakables.”

There was silence for a moment, before Wallis spoke,

“Lady Potter, I am afraid we don’t have a _Girl-_ Who-Lived; our world has a _Boy_ -Who-Lived, Harry James Potter.”

“The magical residue over you indicated that not only had you time travelled, but you had also _dimension_ travelled, as well. Given who you claim to be, we must ask if we can view your memories in a penseive.” Pierre spoke gently, with compassion.

“Well, damn.” Ali spoke a little breathlessly. Sighing, she nodded, and spoke again, her voice a little stronger, “Of course, take any memory you may need. I’m assuming the protocol hasn’t changed between worlds, the Head and Head Healer for the ICW Unspeakables are the only ones who will have access to my memories. You two, in other words.”

“That is correct, Lady Potter.” Wallis replied.

“Lady Peverell, Ali or Nightshade, please. I dislike the connotations that come with Lady Potter.” Ali requested.

“Of course, Nightshade.” Wallis replied, using what had to be her Agent name. He was a little pleased when he saw a small smile grace the young woman’s lips.

Pierre stepped forward and took the memories that they would need to review. The two men left the room, after calling a house elf for some food for her. There was an adjoining bathroom as well, so the elf left a towel and some clothes on the end of the bed for her. The food was good quality, vegetable soup, crispy bread, a treacle tart for dessert. A bottle of ice-cold butterbeer finished the meal quite nicely.

After the delicious meal, Ali managed to hoist herself out of bed; she felt the soft stutter in her magic, which indicated magical exhaustion. She wasn’t surprised; she had used a lot of magic fighting _them_ before the ritual. Still, with the aid of the potions that were included in the soup, just healing, energy and magic replenishing potions, she was able to get up and into the bathroom. She stripped off the hospital style pyjamas she was in and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

She had known she had lost a bit of weight during the last few months, courtesy of the war. There were also bruises covering a good percentage of her upper body. The collection of scars she had gained from the Dursleys oh so _loving_ care had only grown through two wars, her yearly _adventures_ at Hogwarts, and let’s not forget some rather _creative_ torture methods, thanks to _them_. Ali shook her head; she should have been used to her scars by now. She knew she was, but it was sometimes still surprising to see them. Shaking her head free of morbid thoughts, she stepped under the running water, and groaned in delight as the hot water hit her sore body.

After taking a luxurious shower, and washing her hair, Ali got dressed in the simple clothes the elf had left for her. A simple green cotton shirt, white cotton pants, simple under garments, and a pair of black slippers. It was comfortable, and more importantly, soft on her bruised and battered body. She saw a bookcase, complete with many books, in the corner of the room, next to a small desk with three chairs around it. Ali thought about grabbing a book; she knew Wallis and Pierre would be a while watching her memories. However, she decided she would prefer answers. Sitting on the bed, Ali relaxed back into the pillows, and closed her eyes.

‘Death’ she called in her mind.

* * *

It had been something of a surprise, when she was 17, just after she had walked to her death in the Forbidden Forest, to discover that the tale of the three brothers was real. She had been feeling _off_ for a few months, she had put it down to grief and moved on. Therefore, when she died again not even three months after the final battle, it came as a bit of a surprise to find herself back in Kings Cross station, this time with no Dumbledore, thankfully, but with an elderly man, who was dressed like a biker sitting there, clearly waiting for her.

Apparently, Death could appear as anyone he wanted; Death just had a _thing_ for bikers and punks.

It had been quite an eye-opening experience for Ali. As she had collected the three items, the three Hallows, she had become Master of Death. There was a lot of yelling and screaming, a lot of questions, and finally a huffed acceptance that she wasn’t getting out of it.

 _Then_ came the, ‘oh, by the way, you’re Immortal’ conversation.

Yeah, the less said about _that_ the better.

Still, Ali did think it probably explained how, after being decapitated, she simply walked away, after she grew another head, and her original one had turned to dust.

(Death looked at her as if she were an idiot when she asked if being Master of Death had enabled her to do that.)

Death also explained that no matter _who_ had collected all three Hallows before she did, it was always _her_ destiny to become Master of Death. So, there was a lot more gripping, a bit of bitching, and a bit of sulking, before she finally huffed her acceptance again.

For the most part, being Master of Death wasn’t something she even really noticed. But it did occasionally make for interesting conversations with the celestial being. Like now.

‘Death’ Ali called in her mind.

‘Hello Master.’ Death spoke, a female voice today.

Ali opened her eyes; she wasn’t surprised to find herself in Kings Cross station. She smiled at Death; the being had chosen to look like a female today. She was short, older, a little dumpy, had neon pink and purple stripped hair, and many, _many_ pieces of metal in her ears. She also had a crown of flowers on her head.

“Hello Death. You are looking very chipper today.” Ali greeted Death happily.

“Thank you Master. I imagine you would like an explanation"

“If you don’t mind Death. I didn’t realise dimension travelling was even possible.”

"Normally, its not. However, in your case, the other celestial entities and I decided to make an exception. You are needed in this world; you can complete your destiny here, without a Headmaster who shall remain nameless interfering. You can help this world, bring balance here, save your counterpart in this world, and others you have regretted not being able to save. You can finally protect and bring balance to the world, as you were born to.”

Ali hummed for a moment, as they sat on the train bench together. There were birds flying around in the air in front of them; they sat in silence for a short time as Ali thought.

“I was always meant to come here, wasn’t I? Too many decisions I couldn’t make, too many choices stolen from me, too much wrong done in my own world for me to bring balance there as I was meant to. But here, I can. The betrayals, the deaths, the fear, all of it was leading me _here_. Am I right, Death?”

“Yes. However, as with most other things, except when _we_ must, all decisions are yours. I am, as always, available if you need advice, or just to talk. I do hope you get what you are meant to this time Master.” Death smiled at Ali, before fading out.

Ali smiled, and thought as she closed her eyes,

‘Well, Death always has said the choices are mine. So, what choices am I going to make now?’

* * *

When Ali opened her eyes, she was unsurprised to find Wallis and Pierre back in the room and settled on two of the chairs. As she looked at them, Wallis spoke, his deep voice soothing,

“We didn’t wake you, did we?”

“No, I was meditating. So, what’s your verdict?”

“We get the Goblins to assist in getting you a new name, a new background and anything else you will need here. After that, it’s up to you. If you wish to find a way home, we will assist. If you wish to stay, you will have our help for as long as you need it.” Wallis answered.

“I’m staying.” Ali replied. Neither man looked surprised. Ali smiled and spoke,

“We have a lot to do before September and the first Wizengamot session.”

Both men smiled, and they spent the next few months planning, until they day to enter the Wizengamot dawned. They had four in their group by this time, so all four of them stood outside the Wizengamot Chambers waiting for the perfect time to enter. They were, all four of them, under a spell that granted them invisibility that no one and no artifact could see through.

“Are you ready for this, Ali?” Wallis asked softly.

Ali just smirked; the smirk was echoed by the other three.

“It’s time to make that meddling old coot regret the day his father first saw his mother.” Ali replied as she straightened her spine, and steadied her nerves to enter the Wizengamot, and her destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone guess who Aliandra actually was?  
> Can anyone guess who the fourth member of their group is?
> 
> Hope you enjoy


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore gets a bit of his just desserts.  
> Discover a little bit why Ali hates him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the reaction to this. Thank you very much.

Ali panted as she looked around the grounds of Hogwarts. There was ash floating in the air; craters pockmarked the ground, there was wounded, dead and dying lying all over. The castle itself was covered in a haze of smoke from spell fire, but she could just make out the cracks in the walls. Ali honestly could not believe that she had just killed Voldemort.

As she straightened up, she thought about what had happened. The man who had killed her parents, the one who was responsible for her childhood, the one responsible for all this death and destruction was finally gone.

Well, no, Voldemort wasn’t responsible for her childhood. That blame lay at the feet of a different dead man. In fact, a lot of blame could be placed squarely at the feet of a certain twinkly eyed old goat. Ali pursed her lips, and shook her head, banishing such unhelpful thoughts.

She suddenly whirled around at a sound behind her, her wand practically leaping at her thought, to be faced with a dead man.

“Well done, Ali. I knew you could do it. After all, you are our Chosen One.” Dumbledore said.

“You’re dead.” Ali spoke blankly, her wand still pointed at him.

“Oh, no my girl. That was a ruse, to make Voldemort think so, and make him reckless while I worked behind the scenes to make certain that the Light could take control once more.” Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling for all their worth, at Ali and the people behind her.

Before anyone could say anything, there were people apparating in to place magical restricting cuffs on the Death Eaters, and other wounded Dark supporters.

Including Severus Snape and the Malfoys’.

“Wait, Dumbledore, the Malfoys’ and Snape where spies for me while everyone though you were dead. You can’t arrest them. They worked for us; I would not have been able to defeat Voldemort if it weren’t for them.” Ali exclaimed.

“My dear girl, anyone Dark is our enemy. They are an affront to Lady Magic and need to be dealt with severely. Anyone Dark, or their supporters, will be rounded up and imprisoned. It is the only way to prevent war from ever happening again.” Dumbledore sounded so sane to be saying something so crazy.

Ali opened her mouth to say something else when someone grabbed her wrist. She turned and saw it was Luna, who shook her head slowly. Ali swallowed hard, and her eyes met Kingsley and Minerva, who were watching her. She focused again to hear Ronald, Ginevra and Molly all spouting the same drivel that Dumbledore had just said, with Granger backing them up.

Ali turned back to face Dumbledore and saw him watching her closely. She bowed her head, and spoke,

“Of course, Headmaster. Forgive me for not knowing what was right; I am just so very tired of all this war. What should we do now, Headmaster?”

Ali was gritting her teeth so hard; she was a little surprised that they didn’t crack.

“Well, of course everyone who fought should get some food and some sleep. You all just let me handle this; I will guide the world to the Light once more.” Dumbledore spoke; Molly, Ronald, Ginevra, Granger, Doge, Podmore and a few others were staring at Dumbledore with a fervent light in their eyes. Ali swallowed down all her emotions and what she _wanted_ to say and began getting the students and other fighters into Hogwarts.

George, not Fred and George, not The Twins, not Gred and Forge; just George; stepped up beside her as she walked into the only place that had been her home, and spoke softly,

“We are going to do something, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question.

“We need to be Slytherin about this. But yes, we certainly are.” Ali replied, her voice soft, but hard as granite.

* * *

The weeks that followed were hard for anyone decent to sit through. Creatures were being hunted by the new people that Dumbledore had bought with him. Anyone who spoke out against Dumbledore either disappeared or changed their tune so suddenly that everyone knew they were under the Imperious. Azkaban was fuller than it had been in decades. The Goblins were about ready to start another war over new legislation that was being introduced and passed in the Wizengamot. Dumbledore was using his own actions to push that the Dark was still out there, and still a danger to everyone, to get his laws pushed through. Vampires and Weres of all kind were being hunted by Dumbledores Army.

Ali hated that he was using the name of the group she had made for his fanatics. Her people were helping to hide creatures and were trying to save people. Ali was having to tread very carefully, trying to appear as if she were fully for Dumbledore; as were Minerva, Kingsley, Arthur, and many of her other people. Only the warnings they were getting from Luna were allowing them to stay one step ahead.

She still didn’t know where Dumbledore had gotten his new people from; they were hardened soldiers, who answered to Dumbledore and Dumbledore alone. She had a few guesses, but no proof, not yet. George and Minerva were working on trying to figure that out. Finally, they had their answer.

“They are the remnants of Grindelwald’s people. They all bare the Deathly Hallows mark. Grindelwald and Dumbledore had people stashed away in castles all over Europe all this time. They will never follow anyone else.” George spoke urgently to the rest of Ali’s people.

“We move, now. We break into Azkaban, we get our people and the innocents out, and we scatter. The ICW will help us; I’ve been in talks with them this whole time. You all have the list of co-ordinates to apparate to, and emergency portkeys. I want all of ours gone in three hours. We move, NOW. Azkaban team, with me. The rest of you, get out of here.” Ali spoke strongly.

Everyone nodded, and soon, of all of Ali’s people, only Kingsley, Blaise, Neville, Luna, and George were with her. Ali held Kingsley’s eyes for a moment, and Kingsley smiled slightly,

“I’ll keep Dumbles busy. We have an inspection of Azkaban in an hour anyway; that will keep Dumbles and the Aurors busy. It will be alright. See you guys soon.” Kingsley smiled at them and apparated out.

Ali sighed after he went, and spoke softly,

“I know it was to our advantage to let Kings become the Minister, like Dumbles wanted, but I hat every time he has to put himself within that old goats grasp.”

The others smiled; they knew she hated any time, any of them had to. Despite putting herself within his grasp far more often than she ever asked any of her people to. The small group settled where they were, waiting for the correct time to portkey to Azkaban.

* * *

Severus Snape jolted awake, out of his memories that the Dementors always brought. He wondered why he woke up; honestly, he wondered that quite a bit, oh how he wished Nagini’s bite had killed him. He listened intently, trying to figure out what he was hearing, and why he wasn’t as cold. Then he realised, the Dementors were farther away than they normally got, and there was a silver light coming closer. He shuffled towards the cell bars, as did the others in the cells around him, as the silver light of a Patronus came closer.

A panther Patronus.

Snape knew of only one person who had a panther Patronus.

“Potter” Snapes’ voice cracked from disuse.

Potter stepped out from behind her Patronus and began opening the cell doors. Longbottom and Lovegood also stepped out and began helping people out of their cells. Potter opened his personally. She offered him her hand, and he took it as she pulled him up easily. Snape noticed Lovegood giving out portkeys to some of the others, and they began disappearing in twos and threes. Soon, only Lucius, Severus and Narcissa were left.

“Can you guys keep going for a while, you will be coming with me and my people. But we need to meet up with the others, only people with me can get through my wards. We have chocolate and Pepper-Up potions.” Potter spoke softly.

The three now former prisoners nodded, and took the chocolate and potions offered, as well as new, warmer, robes. The small group followed Potter as she moved, matching her Patronus for fluidity. Lovegood gasped suddenly, just as they met up with George Weasley and Blaise Zabini.

“Luna?” Potter asked urgently.

“The Bee knows about out Kings. He is going to do bad things to him, Balance Bringer.” Luna spoke, her voice not at all dreamy.

Potter nodded and opened her mouth to speak. However, Weasley beat her to it,

“I’ll go. I’ll get him, and Dawlish, and come back.”

“George.” Potter said.

“No, Ali. Let me.” Weasley replied.

Potter appeared conflicted for a moment, and then finally nodded. Weasley took off at once, and Potter watched him, with regret on her face for a moment, before she murmured,

“Goodbye George.”

No one else said anything, they all just waited in silence, until footsteps sounded and Shacklebolt and Dawlish stepped out of the shadows. 

“Ali” Shacklebolt began, heartbreak in his voice.

Potter shook her head and pulled out a piece of rope.

“Grab hold, everyone.”

As they did, there were more footsteps, and Dumbledore stepped out of the gloom, followed by Ronald, Molly and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, as well as a small group of his Army.

“Ali, my dear girl, you could have ruled with me if you weren’t so stubborn.” Dumbledore spoke, his voice chiding and gently disappointed. “If you had just done what I wanted you to, dear George would not now be dead. Really now, children, just surrender, and I promise I will be lenient.”

“It is time you paid for your disrespect towards Lady Magic, Albus Dumbledore. It is time to show you what a true Chosen Lord of Magic can do with Lady Magics’ blessing. We will be seeing you again, Dumbledore.” Potter spoke, her voice powerful, magic crackling in the air around her, before she activated the portkey and the small group disappeared.

* * *

“Ali” A voice spoke, knocking Ali out of her memories. She turned and saw Wallis staring at her, concern in his bright eyes.

“Sorry, Wallis. You needed me?” Ali spoke with a quick, calming smile. One thing two wars had taught Ali was how to smile believably and always project a calm, centred persona. Wallis just looked at her with a quirked eyebrow; it didn’t always work. She just gave a shrug.

“You don’t have to do this today. We can come back for the next Wizengamot session.” Wallis said, giving her a _look_.

“No.” Ali spoke strongly, shaking the last of her memories away. She focussed on where she was; they were about to walk into the Wizengamot and truly screw with Dumbledore. “No, today is the first shot in the war, as they say. We don’t appear today, and we lose the element of surprise. He is going to be cautious after today; we need him off balanced to score even a glancing blow against him today. I will be fine, Wallis.”

“Very well. We are here when you need us.” Wallis replied, his strong, calm voice helping to sooth the last of Ali’s troubling memories away.

“Which seat did you decide to take?” Pierre asked, curiously.

Ali smirked, and replied,

“The one that will get me the best reaction, of course.”

Ali straightened her back and checked the time. She smirked and stepped towards the Wizengamot Chamber doors.

* * *

There was absolute silence after that utterance of Lady Nightshade. Many people were blinking, shocked, at the sheer number of titles the Lady had. Many could see the slight malicious glee in her eyes as she stared at Dumbledore, leaving no one under any assumption that it hadn’t been deliberate to announce herself like that. Dumbledore spluttered for a moment, and finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse,

“Very well, Lady Aliandra Oleander Evans-Potter-Black-Slytherin-Gryffindor-Cambridge-North Umbria-Peverell-Ambrosius-Le Fey, those titles still do not answer _why_ our Saviour is any of your business.”

“I was a cousin of both James and Lily; I am his closest magical relative, and as I bear his mother’s blood in my veins, those blood wards you are so fond of will follow him to me. He is my nephew, and therefore, he is _my_ responsibility. He is also my heir. Now, mister Dumbledore, where is my nephew. This is the third time I have asked, and I would like to receive an answer eventually.” Lady Nightshades’ voice was perfectly polite, with just a hint disdain.

“How do we know you aren’t a Death Eater.” Dumbledore, however, sounded slightly desperate.

Lady Nightshade heaved a sigh, as she looked at Dumbledore as if he were boring her. However, she removed her robe, and placed it on her seat. She turned back to face Dumbledore, and the rest of the Wizengamot, with her forearms bared, showing no mark, numerous scars, but no Dark Mark.

“Tell me, Headmaster. Do you always ask someone who doesn’t do what you want them to if they are a Death Eater? Also, are you always going to use the fear of Voldie returning to make certain you retain your control?” Lady Nightshade asked, her voice almost conversational. She sat back down before Dumbledore replied.

“Actually, esteemed members of the British Wizengamot, I have something to add to the point my colleague just made.” Another voice spoke, as someone simply appeared out of the shadows near Lady Nightshade. He was a tall man, of indeterminate age, with greying close-cropped hair.

Before anyone could react, the man continued speaking.

“I am Unspeakable Gray Wallis. I am the Head of the ICW Unspeakable department, and Lady Nightshade is my Partner. I have here a death certificate, issued by Lady Magic, and certified by the Goblin King Jareth himself, for one Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort.”

There was utter uproar at that; it took Minister Fudge almost ten minutes to restore order. During that time, Unspeakable Wallis was standing next to Unspeakable Nightshade, talking quietly as they watched.

“Might I suggest, Minister, that we use the Secrecy Seal on the Chamber to protect the Unspeakables of the ICW.” Madam Bones spoke once there was silence and order once again.

“There is no need. I activated them as soon as I walked into the Chamber with Nightshade.” Wallis said.

Minister Fudge nodded at that; the ICW guarded their Unspeakables identities even more fiercely than the ministries around the world did. At the Minister’s nod, Wallis continued

“The one known as Voldemort was _not_ a Chosen Lord of Magic by Lady Magic. He was self-titled. When he was sixteen, and a Hogwarts student, Tom Riddle was given a book on the blackest of magic. A book on Soul Magic. He was given it by his Head of House, and Potions Teacher, Horace Slughorn. However,” here Wallis had to raise his voice to speak over the exclamations, “we were able to trace _how_ Horace Slughorn gained the book, and found a great many compulsions on the book, as we discovered it in Tom Riddle’s belongings. The magical compulsions on the book were aimed at Horace Slughorn to give the book to Tom Riddle, and many aimed at Tom Riddle to use the book and create Horcruxes.”

Here Wallis had to stop speaking as the outcry to this was so great. Nightshade was watching Wallis, and Dumbledore. Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom were also watching Dumbledore. All of them had seen Dumbledore turn paler and paler the more Wallis had spoken.

“Are you saying someone compelled Tom Riddle to become You-Know-Who?” Fudge finally asked, his voice hoarse, and his face shocked.

“Yes. The compulsions on the book would have forced Tom Riddle to create Horcruxes, which would account for his insanity, and his degraded looks. If it hadn’t been for the compulsions on that book, chances are he would never have made any Horcruxes.” Wallis replied.

“Were you able to ascertain _who_ spelled the book to compel Tom Riddle to become You-Know-Who?” Madam Bones asked.

Dumbledore was sitting down by now, and he was as white as Casper, the Muggle ghost.

Wallis paused, and then said,

“Not with any certainty. The magical residue was degraded.”

Dumbledore heaved a soft sigh of relief, that was missed by most of the people in the Chamber; not however, by those who were watching him closely.

“How many Horcruxes did he makes? Can we destroy them so He can’t ever come back?” Fudge asked, a little desperately; not that anyone blamed him for his desperation, they were all feeling the same way.

“There is no need, Minister. Nightshade and I have spent the last few months tracking them down and destroying them. The ICW Unspeakables were already investigating _how_ Tom Riddle had survived, if you want to call it that, that Halloween night when we discovered that book in his belongings. It gave us the answer, and the way to track them down as well. The last Horcrux was destroyed two weeks ago, at which time a Magical Death Certificate appeared in the Head Gringotts office in Switzerland. Tom Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort can never come back.”

“No, he still can. Harry Potter is a Horcrux.” Dumbledore called out. His colour had come back when he realised the magical residue on the book was too degraded to give an answer.

“No, he is _not_ , mister Dumbledore. Wallis and I did the ritual to remove it from the boys’ scar personally, two weeks ago at Gringotts. The ritual the Goblins had informed you about, Headmaster, when you took the boy there the day after his parents were killed. You, in your infinite wisdom, elected to allow the Horcrux to stay in his scar.” Lady Nightshade spoke strongly, her voice carried over the entire Chamber, as she stood up, glaring at Dumbledore.

“You were Harry Potters’ magical guardian, Headmaster. However, after learning that you refused to remove the Horcrux, why should you remain so? Now, Headmaster, who and where did you place him? Please, tell the Wizengamot. And don’t worry if you can’t, or won’t, because _we_ already know.” Lady Nightshade finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More background, more memories and more revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this, bookmarked, commented and Kudos-ed.  
> This probably wont end up being as long as I thought it may be at the start, but there are still a few more chapters to go.

Ali Nightshade, as she was known these days, was busy reading reports from Unspeakables under her at the ICW when two of her team leaders walked in. She turned to them and saw the expressions on their faces. Even after nearly six years of war against Dumbledore and his forces she still felt a shiver of fear run down her spine when she saw _that_ look.

“Report.” Ali commanded her voice steady.

Susan Bones and Terry Boot exchanged glances, and at a silent signal, Susan turned to Ali and began.

“I lost Hannah Abbot from my team. Granger used a _Sectumsempra_ on me, and Hannah stepped in front of it. She saved me, and as she was bleeding out, Hannah took out four of the ZA, and gave myself and the rest of my team enough time to activate our emergency portkeys. We did manage to secure the safety of the refugees, and gain a new food source, so the mission was completed.” Susan’s voice was rough from shouting and exhaustion.

“Hannah’s name will be placed on the Memorial Wall at the Castle. Thank you, Susan.” Ali replied. She, like most of the others, knew that there was a time for grief and sympathy; sadly, there rarely seemed to be the time now.

“I lost Pansy Parkinson and Zacharias Smith from my team. Pansy was set on by the Inferius of her father and froze. Smith went to help her and got ripped apart with her by Dumbledore’s Inferi. The Western Farms were overrun by the Inferi; we’ve lost them all, as well as the house elves and people working on them. We might be able to regain the ground, but after the damage the Inferi did, we will never be able to grow anything there again.” Terry spoke, his voice hard as ice.

Ali felt a rush of grief for a moment; the Western Farms were their biggest food producing lands. It had also produced a lot of their potion ingredients. To lose both the land and the people working it was a huge blow; not least of all because Pomona Sprout was in charge there.

“Pansy and Zach’s names will be added to the Wall. Thank you, Terry, Susan. I want both you and your teams to take two days, before you place your teams back into the roster.” Ali held her hand up, stalling any arguments. “You know, if I could, I would make it longer, so you all had time to see the mind healers and find adequate replacements. We simply don’t have the time right now; so, take the two days, grab some new team members, get checked over by the healers. That’s an order. And my door is always open if you need anything.” Ali added.

“Thanks Boss.” Susan said, as they both gave a salute, and left.

Ali sighed, and slumped into her chair after they left. When she had busted her people out of Azkaban six years ago, she had not foreseen _this_. Losing Pomona Sprout was hard; after Neville, she was the best at growing the plants they needed. And she had been a good friend. They had lost Minerva two years into the war; she had held off a mixed group of controlled Vampires and the ZA, allowing a group of Ali’s people to evacuate the wounded and the refugees. They had lost Severus only six months later; he had been captured by Dumbledore. Seeing his body after Dumbledore had sent it back to them still gave her nightmares. They had lost Filius Flitwick barely a year ago; he had been with a group of Goblins in their mines when the ZA had attacked. There had been no survivors.

“Ali.” Wallis spoke behind her.

Ali kept her eyes closed as he moved closer; he was one of the few people she still trusted enough to do that with.

“Three more names for the Wall.” She said softly.

“I know; I saw Susan and Terry heading for the bar. Who knew when we placed the names of those who fell during the war with Voldemort that we were starting a Memorial Wall.”

“Hmm.” Ali replied.

“What’s wrong? You’re brooding more than normal.” Wallis said, as he sat down beside her.

“Three extra names and losing the Western Farms isn’t enough to let me brood.”

“No. I know you feel the loss of every person, literally sometimes due to your many titles, but you don’t brood over it, either. You, more than most, know and accept Death as a part of life. So, what’s wrong?”

Ali huffed a soft laugh; Wallis was about the only person who called her out when she was brooding. Luna and Lucius were the others. Neville and Fleur gave her candy and Pierre just gave her a concerned look and asked her gently if she wanted to talk. Ali sighed, and spoke, her voice soft and slightly defeated,

“How much longer can we keep doing this? Between the people we lose every time we go out, the fact that the ordinary Muggles have twigged that there is something strange, and supernatural going on, and the plots of Granger and Dumbledore to expose all magic to the Muggles, how long can we keep doing this?”

“As long as we must. I know, between the Inferi that are responsible for us having more deaths in the last two months than we had in the previous three years has been hard. Dumbledore using our dead as his Inferi has been traumatic for everyone; but you and I have got the ritual that will call all the Inferi back to their graves, and never let them rise again perfected. We can do it at the next full moon, which is only three nights away. I also know that finally discovering what Dumbledore and Grindelwald did to the children to turn them into the Zombie Army, or ZA as I believe they are called by some of the teams, was a shock. Again, you and I are working on a ritual that may give them some of their freedom of thought back. It will take some time, but I am sure we can handle it.”

(The name originally given to Dumbledores forces, Dumbledores Army, had changed after only a few months when they realised just _how_ controlled his people were. Someone had likened them to the Muggle depiction of Zombies; the name changed to the Zombie Army, or ZA after that.)

“As for the Muggles, the governments around the world are aware of what is going on, and they are doing what they can to help us. We can only prevent Granger and Dumbledores plots if we know about them, and between Luna, your animals, and some spying, we learn what we can, and prevent what we can. We don’t need to buy trouble before it comes. Now, stop brooding. You are the leader we need; Merlin knows I can’t be. It is why we are good Partners; now, get up, we are going to duel.”

With that, Wallis simply pulled Ali up; she groaned in mock complaint but went with him.

* * *

“You were Harry Potters’ magical guardian, Headmaster. However, after learning that you refused to remove the Horcrux, why should you remain so? Now, Headmaster, who and where did you place him? Please, tell the Wizengamot. And don’t worry if you can’t, or won’t, because _we_ already know.” Lady Nightshade finished.

There was, once again, absolute silence after that proclamation. Dumbledore was looking like a goldfish, stunned silent, with his mouth gaping. However, just as Dumbledore was looking a little more cognizant, another person stepped out of the shadows. This man had strawberry blonde hair, tied up into a simple horse tail, and his clothes and bearing just about screamed pure blood wealth.

“Esteemed members of the Wizengamot, I am Pierre Delacour, the Head Healer of the ICW; my brother is Gerard Delacour of the French Ministry. I am here, both for the ICW, to help my colleague fix a tremendous wrong done to her family, and for the French Ministry. Honoured Wizengamot, I request leave to address your esteemed personage.”

(There were many reasons why Ali and Wallis had normally allowed Pierre to handle politics; not least of all because he liked it. Even after all the years they had worked together, neither Ali nor Wallis understood it)

Minister Fudge waved his hand at Pierre. Pierre bowed, and continued.

“Thank you, Minister. I have here with me today a complete health report for young heir Potter; certified by both myself and the Head of the Goblins Healer, Healer Jewel Axe. This health report was done when we, Lady Nightshade, Head Wallis, and I, collected the young man from his, _relatives_ , to perform the removal of the Horcrux. It is complete, from the day he was born, until just yesterday. I, and Healer Jewel Axe, decided to do it in such a way after we had seen the health needs that young Master Potter had. I will hand out the reports now; I should warn you, if you do not have a strong stomach, you may need to take a stomach soother.” Pierre warned.

Dumbledore was trying to object; however, he appeared to be silenced. Ali looked around and saw both Madam Bones and Cornelius Fudge had their wands out as they accepted the copies of the medical file.

There were gasps of fury, shock, horror, and bursts of magic as people looked at the file. Pierre waited patiently until the Wizengamot focused back on him.

“As you can see, Heir Potter was not being raised with, oh what did your esteemed Chief Warlock say just three weeks ago when he was asked, oh yes, ‘Our Saviour is being raised with the care and love of a young prince; he is being taught all our ways, and I am seeing him frequently.’ I can only assume that was hyperbole, mister Dumbledore, or that you have a _vastly_ different definition of what a Prince is.” Pierre waited for the murmurs to subside before he continued. “We had to teach Heir Potter that he was a Wizard; that is was perfectly acceptable for a child to have accidental magic; even how to use cutlery, because his _relatives_ did not allow him to eat at a table, or with utensils, when they allowed him to eat, that is.” Pierre’s accent had gotten quite pronounced as he fought his anger back down.

“I should mention now, that the ICW met and awarded custody of Heir Potter to Lady Nightshade two weeks ago. Our appearance here today was mere courtesy to inform this august body of what had been decided. This is not up for argument, mister Dumbledore. The ICW have decided if _you_ are not to be trusted with the safety of children, we will _assist_ you, mister Dumbledore.” Pierre finished, staring at Dumbledore, almost daring him to say something. For such a normally mild-mannered man, Pierre abhorred all thing abuse; it was one of the few things that could force him to lose his temper, Ali knew.

In her past, when Pierre had learnt the truth of her own upbringing, the storm that his magic and fury created raged for almost four days while he healed the damage and was apparently a sight to behold, Ali had been told afterwards. She hadn’t seen it since Pierre had placed her in a magical coma while he healed her. Although, given that he _had_ almost set the Dursleys on fire two weeks ago when he saw the cupboard where Harry slept, (and would have if Wallis hadn’t slapped a magic suppressing rune on his neck as soon as Pierre’s eyes started to glow), Ali could certainly guess what that storm had been like.

There was silence again in the Wizengamot; no one quite knew how to react to the anger and disgust Pierre was exhibiting when he looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had apparently learnt nothing, and opened his mouth to say something, probably quite blustery given how the man was beginning to puff up like a balloon, when Lady Longbottom spoke, giving the senile old goat a withering glare as she did,

“These, Dursleys, where are they now, Head Healer Delacour?”

“They are sitting in a Wizengamot cell, awaiting the judgment and sentence for their crimes. Vernon, Petunia and Marge Dursley have all been tried, and convicted, of multiple counts of child abuse, child neglect, animal cruelty, fraud, tax evasion, resisting arrest, attempted sedition, assault on an officer of the law, and of course, non-payment of parking tickets.” Wallis spoke, a very slight smirk on his face.

There were a few snorts at the conclusion of the list of charges. Clearly, the ICW had gone after them for anything they could think of, and anything they had even a chance of proving.

“Attempted sedition?” Madam Bones queried.

“Quite. If they had managed to make Heir Potter hate and fear magic the way they were attempting, why, that is a form of treason against magic. Dudley Dursley has already undergone a purge of his system, had his magic unbound, and been de-aged. He has been adopted by a family in America, I believe. His magic had been bound when he was a baby at the request of his mother. It is hoped that he will be raised to be a productive member of society, and not the future criminal that he was heading for. After the ICW has pronounced sentence for the three adults involved, the British Muggle government wants to charge them with fraud, child abuse and neglect. The Dursleys were accepting money from the Muggle government for their _care_ of Heir Potter. After the British Muggle government has laid charges, and passed their sentence, the Goblins of Gringotts want them. They were taking money from Heir Potters accounts for his care, as well as living in a house that was paid for out of his vaults. Rent free, may I add. While they abused him. After that, if this esteemed body wishes to charge them, it will be your turn, Madam Bones.” Wallis finished.

“Thank you, Unspeakable Wallis. We will keep that in mind.” Minister Fudge said, a little awe in his voice. As a former Auror, Fudge had always known you didn’t piss off an Unspeakable; he just hadn’t realised quite _how_ ruthless and merciless they could be. Viewing the slight smirks that Wallis, Pierre Delacour and Nightshade were wearing, he decided he never wanted them to turn their attention to _him._ Unbeknownst to Fudge, many of the people in the Chamber were having similar thoughts. And none of them had any sympathy for Dumbledore, as he seemed to be the focus of their ire.

Lady Nightshade stood up once more; the focus in the Wizengamot Chamber went straight to her.

“I call for a re-counting of the Seats of the Wizengamot.”

“Seconded.” Lord Lucius Malfoy called out almost as soon as she had finished.

Dolores Umbridge gleefully stood up and waved her wand at the magical tally board. She hated Dumbledore, so this was the most fun she had ever had in this Chamber. She smirked at Lady Nightshade, as if _she_ were involved in this with the formidable Lady. Ali had to suppress the desire to rip that toads throat out; what her and Wallis had planned for the toad was going to be worth waiting for.

The results of the vote were surprising, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little sorry for the cliffie, but I just felt it was right to stop there.  
> Thanks for reading ^-^


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the Wizengamot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, and Kudos-ed and commented.

Ali Nightshade, formally Ali Potter, smirked as she saw the results of the vote; her eyes glittered with retribution as she stared at Dumbledore, as everything he had worked for slowly crumbled down around him, and no one was even trying to defend him. Lucius Malfoy was watching Lady Nightshade; he had already known this was personal for her, due to Harry Potter, her Heir and nephew, apparently; however, he realised this was a great deal _more_ personal than what he had already thought when he met the young woman last week.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to Lord Lucius Malfoy to walk into his personal study, along with Severus Snape to discuss the Inheritance Test, and realise there were two people already in his study. Two invisible people. He knew that they weren’t a threat to him, or his family, as the wards would have told him such. It was still disconcerting.

Not quite as disconcerting as their conversation, but still disconcerting.

“Be at peace, Lord Malfoy. Had we wished you harm, you would already be dead.” A man’s voice spoke.

“I am aware; you could easily hide yourself from my wards. As easily as you are hiding yourself from my eyes.” Lucius prompted.

Severus Snape was standing beside Lucius, ready to fight or talk if need be. Both men were a little surprised when the invisibility spell was dropped; neither men were expecting a non-descript man dressed simply in brown and grey clothes. Or the young woman, who was dressed in armour, as if she were headed to war; or, the pair of karambits she was twirling in her hands, as her emerald eyes glittered with amusement as she watched the two men.

“I am Gray Wallis; the Head Unspeakable of the ICW. This is Nightshade. Ignore her knives; she likes disturbing people.” The man spoke, slight amusement in his voice, as the woman smirked.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my manor, Head Unspeakable?” Lucius asked. Him and Severus had exchanged a quick glance at the woman’s code name. They recognised it from the letters they, and many other, people had received over the last few weeks.

“We were simply in the area; we like to check the wards on Manor Homes at times.” Wallis replied, his voice completely serious.

Neither Lucius nor Severus were quite sure how to respond to that.

The woman, Nightshade, shifted in her seat; she was sitting in Lucius’s favourite wingback chair. Wallis gave her a quick glance and smirked as their eyes met.

“Very well, play havoc with my fun, Nightshade. I am sure, given your visit to Gringotts earlier today, that you have at least _some_ idea as to the reason for our presence.” Wallis replied, his voice softly mocking.

“We have a few ideas, yes.” Lucius answered.

“Indeed.” Severus spoke for the first time.

“Well, it’s really quite simple. We wanted to make sure you had been taking these issues seriously. And, that you will be attending the first Wizengamot session next week.” Wallis replied.

Lucius and Severus exchanged another quick look, and Lucius answered, slowly.

“Yes, we will both be there.”

“Good. Then, we will take our leave, and see you both next week.” Wallis said. The two Unspeakables stood up and inclined their heads to the two men.

“Wait. Why do you have Lily’s eyes?” Severus asked the young woman, his voice soft and earnest.

She stared at him for a moment, with eyes that were both harder and more alive than Lily’s had ever been. When she spoke, her voice was soft, and gentle.

“I was her, cousin, I suppose. Anything more, you will learn next week, I’m sure.”

With that, final, cryptic comment, both Unspeakables simply vanished. Lucius could no longer feel them through the wards; they had simply disappeared into the shadows. He had always known that Unspeakables had knowledge of and access to forms of magic the general public didn’t; he hadn’t realised quite _what_ that knowledge had looked like.

Yes, that visit had been very disconcerting, Lucius reflected, as he watched Lady Nightshade. He saw the slight triumph in her eyes; he also saw it was tempered with rage and grief. Not for the first time, Lucius Malfoy wondered _why_ it was so personal for the young woman. Don’t get him wrong, anyone who hated Albus too many names Dumbledore was an ally in Lord Malfoy’s book; he did however normally like knowing the reasons.

Lord Gareth Greengrass was also studying the young woman; he was surprised by the ruthlessness being shown by the two Unspeakables. Normally the Unspeakables didn’t allow personal feelings in their line of work; however, with the sheer glee they were both showing, hidden unless you knew where to look, of course, the Lord of the Neutrals knew this had to be personal for them. He was curious exactly _what_ Dumbledore had done to piss them off so badly; he also realised he was highly unlikely to ever know. The results of the vote surprised him, too.

Lord Gareth Greengrass was now the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; the Neutral Party held 82 of the 150 seats in the Wizengamot.

Lord Lucius Malfoy was still the Minority Leader; the Dark Party held 60 seats.

That left Dumbledore, and the Light Party, with 8 seats. And Dumbledore went from having the most seats in the Wizengamot, to only having one seat as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Which meant, Dumbledore could not actually vote anymore, except in the case of a tied vote.

Dumbledore spluttered, and barked out,

“I demand a re-count. I have the most seats in the Wizengamot.”

“No, Headmaster, you do not. You were using the seats the belong to myself and my Heir, illegally may I add. Now that I am in Britain, I will be sitting in them myself.” Lady Nightshade spoke strongly.

“James Potter granted me the proxy right to those seats, I did not use them illegally, Madam.” Dumbledore snapped. He had lost his kindly old grandfather mask, as he glared at the impertinent little girl who was daring to challenge him, ( _HIM_ , the greatest wizard since Merlin himself).

“James was never the Lord. He couldn’t have granted you the proxy rights. Charlus Potter, James’ father died after James did; he was still the Lord until then. That passed onto me, as the overage Heiress of the Peverell line. I most certainly have not given you permission to use my seats Headmaster.” Lady Nightshade replied, calmly.

Before Dumbledore could speak again, Minister Fudge interceded.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, please remove yourself from the Chief Warlock’s seat so we may continue sometime today.”

Dumbledore glared at Fudge, and Greengrass who had moved to take his new seat. In the end, after a few more minutes of growled complaints from Dumbledore and more requests to vacate the seat, it suddenly tipped uprights and dumped Dumbledore onto the floor. When he stood up to try to retake the seat, it began dancing away from him. The snickers grew louder as the Wizengamot watched Dumbledore, a man who had, before today, had great respect and admiration from a great number of the people in the Chamber, began chasing the gold gilt throne chair around the Chamber. The chair was running away from him yet staying _just_ close enough to him to be tempting.

The snickers turned into outright laughter when Dumbledore began _dancing_ to try to take the chair back. No one was quite sure _what_ dance he was doing, but there was a lot hip shaking.

Then, Dumbledore began running _from_ the chair as it sprouted fangs and began chasing him.

The more eagle-eyed members of the Wizengamot saw that Lady Nightshade, Head Unspeakable Wallis, and Head Healer Delacour all had their wands out, and were appearing to be trying to out-do one another.

Finally, Fudge managed to cease laughing long enough to bang his gavel, and call out,

“Whatever is happening, please stop. We can’t have a member of the Wizengamot die in the Chamber of a heart attack. Think of the _paperwork_.” The last was muttered, but quite heartfelt.

The spells stopped, and the chair returned to its place, fangless, and settled. Chief Warlock Greengrass claimed the seat, watching Dumbledore as he tried to catch his breath. After a few moments, the new Chief Warlock called out,

“Any business?”

Unsurprisingly, most eyes had gone to the most interesting members of todays sitting. They didn’t disappoint.

“Yes, I have here five years of laws that need to be gone through due to illegal usage of seats. Some laws that were law are now overturned; some that were rejected, are now Law. I am aware it will take some time to go through each of them, and study the changes, so I am requesting that the Wizengamot meets daily until it is done.” Lady Nightshade spoke.

“Seconded.” Lord Malfoy called out.

“It will be done. Perhaps we can start that next week, to give all the members a chance to go over the laws, as there are a number of new people in the Chamber.” Minister Fudge suggested.

“Motion carried. If there are any other irregularities in the ways seats have been voted recently, we will also see to that next week.” Lord Greengrass stated.

Everyone, except for Dumbledores’ bootlickers, were ignoring any spluttering protests the man was making.

“I have some evidence I would like to table, if I may.” Head Unspeakable Wallis said. At the go ahead from the Chief Warlock, Wallis continued.

“For the last twenty or so years, the Unspeakables of the ICW have been following the increase of the amount of muggleborns around the world. We have been studying why it is happening as we were quite concerned about potential breaches to the Statute. At the same time, the Goblins of Gringotts were also studying the issue; they however have been studying it for nearly _fifty_ years. Independently of one another, both the ICW study and the Goblins study have shown the same thing. Muggleborns are produced from two squib lines.”

Wallis waited until the exclamations of surprise and shock had finished before he continued.

“Yes, muggleborns are the offspring of two squib lines mingling. There is approximately a fifty percent chance of them producing a magical child. Often these muggleborns children are the re-emergence of old pureblood lines thought to be died out. These results were provided at an ICW hearing nearly three years ago, while Headmaster Dumbledore _was_ the Supreme Mugwump. Additionally, the Goblins of Gringotts here in Britain have been trying to bring this information to the notice of the Wizengamot for nearly three decades. They were stopped each time. These muggleborns children are actually completely magical, just like all of you.” Wallis concluded.

There was a great deal of talking between members, until Severus Snape stood up. Once acknowledged by the Chief Warlock, he spoke,

“As the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, I could make an Inheritance Test mandatory for any incoming first years, to introduce these children to the rest of their family. Additionally, it would help in cases of abuse.”

“Seconded.” Lord Nott called out.

“Motion passed. We will work on writing up a law to make it so and present it at the next session.” Lord Greengrass stated.

“Now wait. I am in charge of Hogwarts. _I_ have final say as to what goes on there.” Dumbledore blustered.

“I will take your suggestion to the Board of Governors, Severus. I will call for an emergency hearing once todays session is over, if I may take a copy of your research, Master Wallis?” Lord Malfoy spoke.

“Of course. If needed, I can also be present for the meeting.” Wallis replied.

Dumbledore was left looking like a goldfish once again as he was worked around.

“Any further business?” Lord Greengrass asked after a few moments of silence. When there was nothing, Greengrass continued. “Very well. All members should be receiving copies of the compromised Laws; go through them, and we will reconvene on Monday to begin. This ordinary session of the Wizengamot is concluded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed the conclusion to the Wizengamot.  
> More will be coming.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed. If you could leave a comment on your way out, I'd love it. Thank you ^_^


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